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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849864">Visions of Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulon/pseuds/yulon'>yulon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kingdom Hearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amnesia, Angst, Childhood Memories, F/M, Mind Control</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:29:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yulon/pseuds/yulon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Across all of his incarnations, Terra holds onto a light that never goes out: one that always lights his way back.</p><p>[originally published in the Terraqua zine!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aqua/Terra (Kingdom Hearts)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Visions of Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Apprentice Xehanort did not remember much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His memory was a black pool, featureless but inherently deep. Sometimes he could peer inside and see glimpses, oily and flickering on the surface like light catching on a gemstone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More often than not, he felt nothing for these: they were images without meaning, a painter’s work beautiful but lacking substance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, he felt something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling high above, his hands clasped on his chest and the covers of his bed spilling off to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fragments usually came to him at night, when he was alone and in the deep silence of his thoughts. Moreso, now that Master Ansem had conducted the experiment on him. The technology was primitive, but something had unlocked something inside of his Heart. A key had been turned; things were leaking out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of frustration coiled in his chest. If Master Ansem had agreed to more experiments, maybe his memory -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He could not afford more grief on the man. He closed his eyes and sighed out the anger, let the black pool wash over him. The black pool and its glimpses.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He grabbed onto the wooden sword and swung it in a high, outrageous arc. He bubbled with laughter. He was young and full of so much energy, the snow crunching under his feet should have melted in his sun.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“C’mon, ---!” He bounced in place and held the sword in both hands. It was a little too heavy for one. “Do it! Please?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl across from him smiled. She was a little younger than him and had a playful shyness to her face which reddened in the chill. Though he was bundled to the tips of his fingers with thick furs, she looked comfortable in her training clothes. The snow stuck to her blue hair like glitter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Master might get mad,” she said, and cast a look over at the building behind her. Its form was indistinct, fuzzy in his memory; he caught only a glimpse of bronze and chains.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But how crisp she looked, how clear in his mind. Even his own self felt vague and indistinct in comparison. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I won’t tell if you don’t tell,” he said, and smiled brightly. “If he catches you, blame it on me!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She giggled and covered her smile with her hand, briefly hiding the gap of her missing canine. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Okay. Here!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The blue-haired girl raised her hand. Magic trailed behind her finger’s steady movements. With a pop, it spiralled out and burst into the snow. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He grinned and hopped in place as the snow bundled up. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It formed and crunched in on itself, rising and grumbling as her ice magic built up inside. It grew claws and gnarled wings and a long neck and a snout fanged with a row of grinning teeth, and the dragon’s eyes lit up with the blue arcane of her magic. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The living sculpture of snow was easily twice his size and hunched like a bat. As he burst into excited laughter, it swayed in place and opened its featureless mouth. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“----! This is so cool!” He swung forward with the wooden blade. “Ah! En garde, beast! Grr!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The girl laughed as the dragon lurched forward and smashed into him. The blade stuck into its chest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Then it fell on top of him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He wheezed. The snow slumped and dissipated into a soft bundle, the dragon back to the loam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It got me too fast,” he complained. The girl popped into view, her blue hair hanging around her face as she looked down at him, her smile coy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, you wanted to see,” she chirped. “The dragon’s the hard one! I can make a knight. Do you want to try that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nah.” He sat up, grinning, shivering as a clump of snow slid down the back of his neck. “I want a challenge.” He got to his feet and brushed off the snow. “Why a dragon, anyway?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know,” she said, reaching down to pick up a clump of snow and start pushing it into a snowball. He watched it suspiciously. She still had to get him back for him pelting her inside the library with one yesterday. “I wanted something really powerful.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Like you?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She looked at him. He blanched then reddened, the sincerity of his words catching him off-guard - and her, too, it seemed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh. Well. Let’s do it ag -”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The familiar voice of their Master made them both jump.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Aq- ---- !”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had to remember her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her blue hair, her smile, her laugh. The child in his dream was important to him. A child that he knew, somehow, had been with him for so long. So long. Grown from a child to a girl to a woman. A woman with blue hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xehanort scrambled at his notes, his eyes wide and frenzied as he began to write.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to remember her. Had to. The frenzy in his Heart was alight like a wildfire. Sometimes, such dreams, such memories, faded quickly after waking; sometimes, some stayed. He had no way of knowing what this would be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue hair. Soldiers. Dragons. Power. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved aside a stack of notes, each labeled with the name of one of their creations - Large Body, Blue Opera, Bandit - and grabbed a fresh sheet. So far, he’d found the best way to remember his dreams was to put them in one of his creations. Putting them into his work made them more tied to this world, made them more real. Journaling had proved ineffective, his notes afterward always disjointed and scrambled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But categorizing memories into scientific creations brought… stability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This memory, though - never before had one gripped him so brightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was her name?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xehanort poured himself into his notes. Dragons. Power. Magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How strange. Some part of him began to hesitate as he sketched the thing: sketched the powerful talons, the hateful eyes. But the Emblem Heartless were made to be hateful. He’d never hesitated with his memories like this before, and with a powerful one like this -</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wouldn’t the girl hate a creation like this being made in her memory? A creation of Darkness?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought gave him pause. He stared at the half-sketched Emblem Heartless. He knew in his Heart he was right. And yet -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flinched, then scowled. His Heart squeezed painfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’d be honored</span>
  </em>
  <span>, another part of him thought, the darker part of him, the voice which whispered and prodded him as he made the machines, as he ordered Dilan and Aeleus to begin the kidnappings. A hoarse voice, raspier. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ll remember her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had to remember her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later, he shoved the sketch into Even’s hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get this ready,” he ordered. “We’ll start production immediately.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, he stared into the cells.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Inside, two eyes turned to face him, glowing in the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Wyvern stood to its full height, growls and hisses steaming out of its clenched maw. The emblem of the Heartless gleamed faintly in the dim light like wet ink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, a pang of dismay - </span>
  <em>
    <span>was this right? Was this a pall on her memory? </span>
  </em>
  <span>- and then, a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For at least, staring into the thing’s hateful eyes, he remembered the laughter of her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Guardian followed its master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The place they had come to was familiar in some dark, echoing way: the architecture, metal and brick and elegant even when desecrated and crumbling, signaled some vague glimpse of memory in his mind. A memory of light and reflection. Water. A vibrancy of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vibrancy wasn’t here anymore, or at least, not in the depths of this castle. Lanterns guttered along the walls with an oily light which did little to illuminate the cracked walls, the cracked marble floors, the cracked statues and fountains and pipes. It was still and quiet; even the air felt dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His master was the only one to make noise, quiet as it was, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shhf-shhf-shhf</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his robe dragging along the floor as they made their way through Maleficent's castle.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maleficent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Another pulse of memory. Purple and black. The Guardian flexed one of his clawed hands. Ever since his Master had summoned him here, more and more of such glimpses returned. It was cumbersome. His attention had to be on his master’s orders - not grow distracted on such glimpses of light and water. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Water. Water</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The robed figure came to a stop, and the Guardian, ever his shadow, stilled behind him. They had come to a halt at a balcony overlooking a chamber below, vast and lit with crudely made dragon statues atop an altar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His master smiled. No smile any could see, of course - he had no form of his own, not yet - but the Guardian knew the flickers of his master’s emotions more than he knew his own self. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look,” he said. His voice was a dark rasp, lacking the strength it once had when he’d had a body. A body with silver hair and a smug face. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Armor of bronze.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Guardian flexed another claw and growled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Below is our last key,” Ansem said, and gestured. The Guardian did as he was bid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the center of the altar lay a girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His yellow eyes narrowed. She was young, perhaps no older than fifteen, with hair the color of autumn leaves. Her breathing came in slow, steady breaths, but her expression was vaguely troubled, as if she was having peculiar dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One of the Princesses of Heart,” Ansem said. “What a misfortune her Heart now resides elsewhere. But no matter. The hero will arrive soon enough.” The Heartless cocked his head. “They always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Guardian said and did nothing. He never could. Though his master spoke to him often, it was never to look for a conversation. Ansem only enjoyed hearing himself talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Water</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something felt strange, looking at the girl. Some sense of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgetfuless</span>
  </em>
  <span> panged in him, as it had since coming to this world. To this place he somehow knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ansem’s voice, his master’s voice, became a backdrop to his own mind, bleak and unthinking as it usually was. He stared at the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Water</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her necklace shimmered in the fire. The Guardian looked at it. It was an unassuming necklace: a simple thing made of a silver chain and a blue gem pendant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about it - he idly clawed at the bannister, raking marks through the metal as if it were sand. The memory felt like ink in water, wavering out of his grip and slipping away in intangible ribbons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pendant glinted as if molten.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A flicker of inner magic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An ench-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s a sort of enchantment to keep you safe,” Aqua said. Her smile was shy but unwavering. She wrung her hands together. “I can try it on your armor, if that’s okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Terra smiled. “I’d be honored.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you sure?” Aqua asked, her eyes watching him nervously as he undid his pauldron with practiced ease. It bothered him to see her so wary all the time about her own skills. They were only fifteen, but Aqua was the strongest person he knew, except for maybe Eraqus. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course.” He smiled at her again as he offered his pauldron. The piece was already enchanted,  being the transformative segment of his Keyblade armor, but for Aqua to enchant it, too? He felt a rush of fondness. “Like I said: I’d be honored.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She laughed softly and took it in her hands. He glanced at them. So delicate. A magician’s hands. Hands which had definitely beaten him with a Keyblade more times than he could count. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Terra?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Huh?” He looked up at her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I asked you what kind of enchantment you want.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Terra flushed and ran a hand through his hair. “Uh - huh. Well…” He cocked his head and put a hand on his chin. What kind of enchantment would he want from Aqua? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How about protection?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Protection?” she echoed, then smiled. “I don’t think you need protection, Terra. You’re -”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’d make me feel better if I had something from you to protect me, though,” he rushed on, before he could lose his bravery. His heart started to hammer. Was that too much? Too heavy-handed?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It was Aqua’s turn to blush, but as ever, it faded and replacing it was a sense of poise and grace. She smiled at him and nodded.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’d love to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>AQUA.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her memory sprang into his mind’s eye like a firework of light: her soft blue hair, the slope of her jaw, her smile. Her hand catching his arm as he moved to walk away from her; playing in the snow as children; making her a small wooden replica of her Keybalde in celebration after it had first appeared on a cold fall day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>AQUA.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Guardian growled, flinched back. Something deep inside of him coiled and bucked and writhed. Something fighting, and something else fighting back.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m with you!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her memory was blinding. Scorching. The Guardian - no, that wasn’t his name, that wasn’t the name she had called into the Darkness as he fell - but what was his name? - sprang open his claws.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the thing in front of him - his MASTER -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lunged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This creature in front of him - this THING - had taken her away from him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her. Aqua. His best friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra didn’t remember how. Didn’t remember when. But how his Heart ached with vengeance and anger!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body came to a sudden and jarring stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Guardian hovered frozen, claws outstretched mere inches from tearing Ansem’s back asunder. He snarled, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t budge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ansem did not move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been some time since you’ve tried that,” he said, and Terra growled. The Darkness shrouding his corporeal form shuddered and ached as Ansem retook control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure, hunching, turned to look at him. Yellow and amused and always-smug eyes watched him from the hood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always surprised, each time. Was it this world which sparked something in you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Radiant Garden. This world. A place of water and flowers, replaced by devastation and shadows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something he had helped with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Machines. Dragons. Soldiers. Monsters.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terra paused in dismay as the memories rushed back. Experimenting on innocents. Kidnapping people. A knife in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aqua’s wary look, her fear for him. For the Darkness in his Heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would she think of all he had done? The light of her began to fade. He’d even made a monster in her memory. A monster which had taken to the skies and picked off innocents screaming and trying to flee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aqua -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Darkness in your Heart will claim you,” Ansem said, watching him. “As it has always had before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She had said that. She’d said that even as he fell into the Dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Always with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even now? Even after all of this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her memory flickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ansem waved a hand. Terra’s vision shrouded, grew gray then black. Desperately, snarling, he fought back, fought back against the dimness, and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nothing. Only blackness. Only Darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Aqua. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xemnas stared at the armor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had not taken much from his home - if Radiant Garden had ever counted as </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span> - but the armor had been the first thing he had ordered moved. The armor, and, of course, the Keyblade.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Staring at it brought some sense of - </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him. He felt nothing, of course - he was a Nobody, a shell, with no Heart to feel with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet the idea of abandoning the armor and keyblade to the ruins of what was now Hollow Bastion, leaving it to rot and rust… somehow bothered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bothered him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How amusing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You sure about that, boss?” Xigbar had said, eyeing the armor and Keyblade bundled up in Xemnas’s arms. “Seems kinda -”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I believe you should be worried about your own matters, Xigbar.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xemnas flexed a hand and closed his eyes. Sense. Yes. It brought sense. Sense to himself. For his… </span>
  <em>
    <span>identity.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It felt an anchor, a beacon. Something to bring him stability.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue hair. Smiling eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see her. Coming to the Chamber of Repose, where he had stashed the armor and keyblade, always brought her and all the memories surrounding her back to his mind’s eye. Every time he left, they began to fade - until he returned, that was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was foolish. A waste of time. He, logically, knew this. What did the memory of a young woman matter to his quest? To the Organization’s purpose?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did the memory of a weapon in his hand, clashing against hers, as they laughed and dueled, matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did the memory of his weakness, his boyishness - blushing as she leaned against him after a hard day of training - matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Logically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting alone in the circular room, Xemnas chuckled quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, he certainly knew why it mattered. Certainly it brought him stability. Brought him some manner of peace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But why was that?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was simple, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made him feel...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Human.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his eyes and looked at the armor, each movement slow, calculated as a snake’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xemnas remembered dreams of snow dragons. Visions of charms and magic. He stared at the armor and the blade: ties to a past he should have left behind, ties to something more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ties to something bright. Something good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ties to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m with you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>In his cold and vacant chest, something small but powerful stirred.</span>
</p><p> </p>
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